


Breathe In and Out

by pastandfuturequeen



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 1x04 Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2488838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastandfuturequeen/pseuds/pastandfuturequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His breath came shallow, tightening in his throat as though held by an invisible force, choking him. Hysteria bubbled and spilled into liquid sarcasm on reflex, but even that crumpled under the weight of the pressure on his chest. He couldn’t breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe In and Out

**Author's Note:**

> Very vaguely related to my first work, "Connor Walsh Does Not Apologize" but can be read alone.

His breath came shallow, tightening in his throat as though held by an invisible force, choking him. Hysteria bubbled and spilled into liquid sarcasm on reflex, but even that crumpled under the weight of the pressure on his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

Connor took the stairs up to the third floor, mind firmly concentrating on each step he was taking. He feared that if he had taken the elevator, his mind would manage to convince him to turn back – and that was something that he had promised himself he would not do.

Regardless, Connor paused at the door to apartment 303, knuckles half-raised to knock. He licked his lips, mind already conjuring several reasons as to why he should turn around right now while he still had a chance. Oliver would never be the wiser. He could leave and pretend that he hadn’t been choking since that night – choking and spluttering and desperate as he struggled to act like everything was normal.

Just as he decided that this had not been a good idea after all, the elevator dinged down the hall and Oliver stepped out.

Connor turned and spotted him, licking his lips again as he realized his decision had been made for him. Oliver saw him and made his way over, an unreadable expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as soon as he was close enough, stopping two feet away from Connor. Connor felt the distance as acutely as he did his own body – the void between them spoke intricate monologues of what had been, but was no more. 

Connor cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets to prevent them from shaking. Though no amount of coughing could take away the weight on his chest.

“I was wondering if we could talk inside?” he muttered, tilting his head towards the door.

Oliver frowned slightly, looking as though he was going to refuse – but something in Connor’s expression must have stopped him. He paused, contemplating, and nodded tersely. Connor stepped away as Oliver unlocked the door to the apartment, stepping inside and holding it open for Connor.

Connor breathed in a sigh as soon as he was inside, a familiar smell that he hadn’t even realized he had missed hitting his nostrils and wrapping around him like a blanket. For a brief moment, Connor breathed deeply. Oliver disappeared further into the apartment for a moment, returning without his suit jacket and laptop case. He gestured Connor towards the living room while he headed towards the kitchen.

Connor sat on the familiar couch, rubbing his hands together to remove the numbness. The weight was back on his chest, restricting his breath and almost making him cry out in frustration. His leg bounced impatiently as his mind swirled with possible opening lines and word choices and possible reactions and – Oliver stepped inside the living room not a moment too soon, bearing two mugs of tea.

Despite his usual dislike of the hot drink, Connor found himself appreciating the warm mug in his hands, for it was something to focus on rather than his wracked nerves. Oliver sat a cushion’s distance away from him, taking a sip of his own tea contemplatively.

“I take it you’re here because of what happened three days ago.” Oliver’s voice was too loud in the otherwise silent apartment, shattering the delicate truce that had spread before them. Connor flinched; jaw tightening as he recalled the instance. He had just finished burning the body of his boss’s dead husband, cold and terrified and shaken to his very core. 

Connor had gone to Oliver’s doorstep, his body taking him there on autopilot as he collapsed out in the hall, words spilling out of his mouth that didn’t even make sense to him. Surprisingly, Oliver didn’t call the cops to collect the lunatic at his door at six in the morning. Oliver had taken him inside, giving him tea and forcing him to calm down enough to take a hot shower to warm his chilled bones. From there Oliver had comforted him, letting him sleep on the couch until he could breathe and shook no more.

“Yeah, I did,” Connor replied, shaking himself out of the memory. “I hadn’t gotten the chance to thank you.” _I was too busy sneaking out due to my guilt and going over to my classmate’s house to collaborate all of our stories for when the cops come knocking,_ he refrained from adding.

Oliver sighed and set his mug down on the coffee table, turning to look at Connor. “Care to tell me what all that was about?”

Connor shook his head, a humorless smile spreading across his lips. Oliver sighed once more, running a hand over his face. Connor’s gut clenched at the thought of having caused Oliver’s reaction, at having intruded on him under the heat of his nervous breakdown and getting him involved in the whole mess that was his life.

“I can’t tell you the details,” Connor began, fighting to keep his voice even. “But – I came to you when I was breaking, and while you had every right to slam the door on my face, you didn’t.” He turned to look at Oliver, their eyes locking. “And I just – I’m so thankful that you did that. I know you deserve answers, but please believe me when I say you _don’t_ want to get involved with what happened that night.”

They stared at each other for several long moments, searching each other’s faces for something that the other could not perceive. 

Oliver broke the eye contact and shrugged his shoulders. “No matter how much of an asshole you have been before, I couldn’t leave you in the hall like that,” he replied simply, taking a sip from his tea.

Connor grimaced at the reminder, turning away with no small amount of shame scratching at his throat along with the weight. “I also wanted to – apologize, for that,” he confessed, forcing the words from his mouth. “I know that just saying a few words won’t fix what happened between us–”

“–You’ve got that right,” Oliver muttered darkly.

Connor paused before continuing, “But I would like to start over.” Oliver scoffed, and Connor hurried to recover. “–Not sexually. I know I don’t deserve that. I just – I actually like being around you. And if possible, I’d like to become friends.”

Silence stretched between them once more, thickening until Connor was sure he could spread it over toast with a butter knife.

“Friends?” Oliver repeated slowly, tasting the word contemplatively as it rolled from his tongue.

“If you’d be comfortable with it,” Connor added. “If not, then – I’ll just be on my way, and you won’t ever hear from me again,” he pretended that the thought didn’t send a part of him spiraling downwards to despair. "No more phone calls, either."

They shared a look. Oliver set his jaw, obviously remembering when he had been woken in the middle of the night some weeks ago by a call from Connor trying to clumsily apologize. Connor clearly remembered the rejection and erasing Oliver's number as though it were only last week. Connor had vowed never to call or apologize again, because Oliver had made it clear then that he never wanted to see Connor if it was possible. Obviously, situations had changed.

Oliver shook his head disbelievingly, breaking their eyes' silent monologues. “You want to be friends. Like – hanging out occasionally on the weekend to catch some drinks, or watching the latest episode of Doctor Who–”

Connor nodded, though he had no idea exactly what Oliver was on about when he talked about the show with the British guy and the police box. Regardless, he would be willing to learn what the show entailed (or at least find the short summary online) if it meant that he could see Oliver again. The pain of not being able to see Oliver on a regular basis physically stung Connor to the core, and not just because of his decreased access to unlimited sex in the mornings and afternoons.

Connor didn’t even have the excuse of working or living near Oliver; both the University and his apartment existed on the other end of town. For a gut-wrenching moment, Connor thought that Oliver was going to refuse. He couldn’t bear it if he did, because no matter how much Connor wanted to convince others he didn’t have emotions in regards to relationships – even he couldn’t deny that Oliver had a certain power over him that was as dangerous as it was exhilarating.

These thoughts swirled in Connor’s mind, whispering traitorous hope to be crushed by toxic doubt a moment later. 

"I'd really be an idiot to forgive you for what you did," Oliver said candidly.

Connor held his breath, feeling his sentence fall upon him like brick. For a brief moment he thought he would pass out from lack of oxygen. But to his relief, Oliver said, 

“Okay,”

Connor breathed again.


End file.
